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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27272881">in deep</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/M0stlyVoid/pseuds/M0stlyVoid'>M0stlyVoid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kinktober 2020 [26]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Auror Partners, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Nipple Piercings, Shower Sex, Showers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 03:07:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,089</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27272881</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/M0stlyVoid/pseuds/M0stlyVoid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry thinks he's finally reached the perfect balance. He's got his friends, he's got his occasional hookups, and he's got his Auror partner, prim and proper Draco Malfoy, to keep him on top of his tasks and always be there with a cup of coffee when it's most needed.</p><p>Naturally, that's when Malfoy throws a spanner in the works.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kinktober 2020 [26]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948741</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>480</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>in deep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>the october 26 prompt for kinktober 2020 is—<i>tattoos/piercings</i>.</p><p>the inspiration for this particular fic is something i read on tumblr a few months back about how apparently in the 1890s there was a fad in Victorian England for people of all genders to get nipple rings because they were all sex fiends and nipple piercings feel good. that's it that's the fic.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry’s used a lot of words to describe Draco Malfoy over the years (pointy, rude, nasty; suspicious, toady; <i>Death Eater;</i> trapped, broken; alive again), but as he sighs and watches in fond irritation as Draco changes the report again, refusing to drop it into the outbox until it’s <i>exactly right,</i> the only word he can consistently come up with these days is <i>fussy</i>.</p><p>Well. Maybe snobby, too. And still pointy, sometimes, if Harry’s being honest, but not nearly as much as he was as a child.</p><p>“Just send it, Draco, it’s as good as it’s gonna be; you know as well as I do the interview was a waste of time, and prettying it up isn’t going to hide that.”</p><p>“I’m not trying to <i>hide</i> it,” Draco snaps, finally signing his name with a (fussy) flourish and dropping the folder in the out-tray, where it vanishes with a small pop. “I’m trying to make it clear that it <i>was</i> a dead end, and a bad lead; if the report is as clear as possible, Robards won’t think we missed anything and send someone else out to chase at nothing.”</p><p>Harry rolls his eyes. “As <i>if</i> he’d think we missed something. Come on, do you want to head down to the ward rooms? I’m feeling antsy after all that.”</p><p>Draco sighs deeply, but stands, adjusts his robes, and pats down along his arm to ensure his wand is holstered. As far as Harry can tell, there’s nothing to adjust, and of <i>course</i> his wand is in its holster, but that’s Draco, he supposes. “Sure, why not. It’s not like we’re going to get called for anything else today. Merlin, what a waste of <i>time</i>. Someone needs to tell MLEP they need to screen their witnesses a bit better.”</p><p>“<i>Someone,</i> sure,” Harry says drily, following Draco to the lifts. “Shall I expect an outcry over another one of those <i>anonymous memos</i> again next week? Another trainee sobbing in the bathroom, perhaps?”</p><p>Draco puts his nose in the air. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Potter,” he sniffs, but the corner of his mouth is jumping a bit, and he only ever calls Harry <i>Potter</i> when he’s being a prat on purpose.</p><p>Harry smiles at the back of Draco’s head as they pile into the empty lift. Draco’s so predictable; it soothes Harry, if he’s being honest. Every day, he knows exactly what to expect when he gets to their shared office (generally a few minutes late, but he does his best)—Draco’s outer robe hanging neatly from the coat rack, a coffee under stasis on Harry’s desk, and all his unfinished memos from the previous day sorted and ready for his attention.</p><p>The ward rooms—down a few floors and sideways from the DMLE, and only accessible with an Auror badge—are empty when they arrive. The trainees are out on a field exercise, and it’s late enough after lunch and too long until the end of the day for anyone else to be getting a session in.</p><p>Harry signs one of the rooms out, watching as the registration memo flutters up through the ceiling, then he slips into the room after Draco, who’s already stripping out of his Auror garb and Transfiguring his stuffy shirt and trousers into something more appropriate to exercise in. Harry does the same, smiling to himself when Draco huffs at the way he’d thrown his robe off to the side and folds it neatly.</p><p>The ward rooms are shielded and spelled to the teeth with monitors; it’s the only place in the Ministry Dark spells can be performed, and the staff Healer has a Portkey that heats up and activates within 45 seconds if a serious injury is registered in any of the rooms. The trainees spend the most time in these rooms, where any consequences of miscast spells or poorly-constructed Shield charms can be kept to a minimum, but they’re available to any Auror (and certain levels of clearance within MLEP) to practice. There are programs that can be activated for solo practice, which is what most of the Aurors prefer, but Harry and Draco like to work together; Harry because the automated programs are too easy and he’s defeated them all, and Draco because he was able to predict the spell patterns in the first three and refused to even bother with the rest.</p><p>Draco takes off for his warm up laps around the room, which obligingly expands (Harry <i>loves</i> Wizardspace) and adds in a track with distance markers. Harry figures he’s got a little over ten minutes for Draco to finish his standard two mile warm-up, so he stretches a little and sits staring into space while he waits. His eyes catch on Draco occasionally as he passes him around the circuit, absently noting that he’s made grey joggers today, not black, and his vest doesn’t have sleeves. </p><p>As he rounds the track the last time, Draco puts on a burst of speed, and Harry applauds sarcastically as he comes to a stop. Draco glares at him while he stretches a bit, but soon they’re taking their places on either side of the dueling field, circling each other with their wands out.</p><p>Harry will never admit it, but he’s <i>glad</i> Draco won’t use the solo practice programs; fighting with him is easy, seamless, but fighting <i>against</i> him? That’s on an entirely different level; watching Draco’s eyes as his focus narrows in on Harry to the exclusion of everything else, feeling the whisper of his spellcasting an instant before it bursts forth from his wand, smelling the honey-and-sugar scent of his magic in the air… Well. It’s some of the most fun Harry has these days.</p><p>He’d tried to explain it to Ron, once, and after he’d stuttered to a stop Ron had been silent for a full three minutes, staring at him in what Harry thought might have been…despair? disappointment? before finally shaking his head slowly, muttering something about <i>can’t do this again, I swear to Godric I’ll kill him this time,</i> and going off to find Hermione, who had done nothing but laugh at Harry when he’d asked about it later. His friends are wankers, really.</p><p>Harry ends their duel by freezing Draco’s hands above his head, then strolling over and plucking his wand out of his fingers. He waggles it in front of Draco’s face with a smirk, jumping back and hastily cancelling the spell when Draco kicks out at him.</p><p>“Fine, you bastard, you win,” Draco sighs, snatching his wand back, and Harry crows delightedly before Conjuring their scoreboard and adding another tick under his name. They’re fairly close to being tied, but Harry maintains the only reason his edge over Draco is so slight is because Draco <i>cheats</i>. Draco doesn’t ever deny it, just examines his nails in smug silence, and secretly, Harry’s impressed at how many new ways of playing dirty Draco’s able to come up with.</p><p>“Ugh,” Harry says, pulling up the hem of his shirt to wipe his forehead. Draco chokes, and Harry absently floats one of the water bottles kept cold on the shelves near the door towards him. “I’m disgusting. Think I’m going to hit the showers; what time is it?”</p><p>“Half four,” Draco replies distractedly.</p><p>“Excellent! We can head straight out, then. Do you want to grab a pint with me before you go home?” Draco almost never takes Harry up on his invitations, but Harry asks every week anyway.</p><p>He’s already headed towards the door, hoping Maintenance has restocked the shampoo with the type he likes, when Draco replies with a quiet, “Yes,” and hurries to catch up.</p><p>Harry pauses, genuinely shocked. Draco sends him a quick, searching glance as they exit the ward room, but before Harry can say or do anything else, Draco turns to sign them out, then hustles down the hall to the locker rooms.</p><p>Draco <i>never</i> showers at the Ministry. He hates the locker rooms, hates sharing bathing space with others even if barely anyone else is in there, and has a veritable fleet of haircare and skincare potions at home (with colour-coordinated bottles; Harry had been <i>stunned</i> when he first saw Draco’s bathroom) that he insists are the only things that work properly for him. Even when they were trainees, he’d used Cleaning Charms or Apparated home after practical sessions.</p><p>But now, he pushes his way into the locker room and heads straight for the showers like he’s there every day, and Harry can only follow along, mind working furiously.</p><p>He rushes to undress and select his spot first; the Ministry showers are utilitarian, and while they do provide a variety of products, there are no individual stalls, just two rows of showerheads along opposite walls. Naturally, they have features Muggle showers never would, but the utter lack of anything remotely resembling privacy had been...jarring, at first. Harry’s used to it now, but not with <i>Draco,</i> so he decides to pick his usual spot and allow Draco to decide where in the lines of showers he’s most comfortable.</p><p>Harry’s got the water running and is examining his shampoo options by the time Draco steps in; he’d clearly put his clothes through the Magi-Cleaner first, because there’s no sign of sweat stains and they’re back to their original state. He puts them on the shelves at the far end of the room, then saunters over and selects a shower just down the row from where Harry’s standing, jaw dropped, the shampoo bottles forgotten as they hover midair next to him.</p><p>Because Draco. Draco <i>Malfoy,</i> his prim, proper, posho Auror partner. <i>Draco Malfoy</i> has his <i>nipples pierced</i>.</p><p>They’re small, unobtrusive; just small silver barbells that flash in the light reflected off the water, almost invisible on his pale skin, but to Harry they’re as enticing as a siren song.</p><p>Ginny has her nipples pierced, she’d gotten them done right after they got back together, the summer after the War, and when she came home with them, Harry’d barely been able to wait the recommended two hours to let them magically heal all the way before he got his hands on them. Since they broke up, he’s been with people of all sorts, bouncing from type to type as he tried to figure himself out. One thing he knows for sure, though? He <i>loves</i> piercings. Tattoos, too, but not as many people in the magical world have those; likely because of stigma associated with the Dark Mark, which Harry thinks is a shame, because magical tattoos are really something special.</p><p>All of that adds up to him, standing like a particularly idiotic statue under the water of his <i>shower at work, Merlin,</i> staring at his partner as Draco blithely turns the water on and steps under the stream when the temperature reaches his preferred lava-like temperature.</p><p>Harry can’t look away. The silver barbells glint tauntingly at him, and his mouth waters, and suddenly Hermione’s snide little comments whenever he brings Draco up start to make sense.</p><p>Merlin, how long has been in love with his partner? Fuck, Ron is <i>never</i> going to let him hear the end of this.</p><p>Draco turns and catches Harry’s eye, and he hastily looks away in an effort to look like less of a sex pest. He hastily snatches his preferred shampoo (he can’t get anyone to tell him where they purchase it, but it’s the only thing that leaves his curls feeling soft and actually looking nice when they dry, instead of frizzy and dried-out) and sends the rest back to the shelves, then squeezes some into his palm.</p><p>He’s just scrubbing at his scalp and sternly talking himself down when Draco interrupts him.</p><p>“Harry, is that a <i>tattoo</i> on your leg?” He sounds delighted.</p><p>Harry glances down; the black-and-red snake he got a few weeks after Ginny went in for her piercings is curled around his upper thigh, like usual, and he strokes it briefly to set it squirming and crawling along his leg. “Yeah. Got it as an eighteenth birthday present to myself. I forgot you wouldn’t have known about it.”</p><p>“Well, no; I’m not sure when I would have seen your, er. Thighs. Before today.” Draco’s voice is pinched, and Harry grimaces.</p><p>“No, I suppose not,” he mutters, then sneaks another glance over to where Draco is now studiously rubbing some potion over his face. “And, er. You’ve got. Well. You’ve got. Your nipples are pierced?” Oh, he could just <i>slap himself,</i> really, way to sound <i>normal,</i> Potter.</p><p>Draco looks at him, raises an eyebrow, and glances at Harry’s chest. “Potter, <i>everyone</i> gets this done. Are you telling me you didn’t? My, how terribly middle-class of you. I thought you had more of a sense of refinement these days, after all that research you did into your father’s family.”</p><p>Harry sputters. “Everyone…! What are you <i>talking</i> about, Draco? Everyone does <i>not</i> have their nipples pierced!”</p><p>“In certain circles, I can assure you that they do,” Draco says, stepping back under the water and rinsing his face. He turns to examine his own shampoo choices, and Harry’s eyes drop of their own accord to his arse. “They came into fashion in the 1890s, you know—those Victorians may have been backwards about a lot of things, but they certainly were right on the money about what feels nice. Anyway, it’s turned into something of a tradition among that crowd; when you turn sixteen, one of your older friends will ‘sneak you out of the house’ and take you to get them done. It’s all terribly hush-hush, they make a big production out of it, sort of a mini coming-of-age ceremony before the major one when you turn seventeen. Everyone knows about it, of course, it’s been done for generations, but it’s all for fun, anyway. Adrian Pucey took me; Merlin, I had <i>such</i> a crush on him. He took me to a pub after, and we drank until they were healed, and then he pulled me off in the gents. That was before… Well. It was a good couple of months.”</p><p>Even the reference to what must have been an absolutely hellish end of the summer for Draco before their sixth year can’t put Harry off now; he’d been half-hard when Draco started talking, but his dreamy reminiscing got him the rest of the way there. Before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s crossed over to where Malfoy’s assiduously scrubbing shampoo into his hair, crowding him face-first against the wall, but not touching him.</p><p>“I like them,” he breathes into Draco’s ear, watching as goosebumps explode all over his shoulder. “I like them a <i>lot</i>. Have I ever told you that everyone I’ve ever slept with has had piercings?”</p><p>Draco looks over his shoulder, and his eyes are huge, pupils blow, and Harry groans, resisting the urge to rub against the back of his thigh. He needs to know Draco <i>wants</i> this, wants <i>him</i>.</p><p>“Oh,” Draco breathes, eyes flickering over his face. “You’ve finally figured it out, then.” Before Harry can ask him what he means, Draco arches his back, deliberately, and rubs his arse against Harry’s cock.</p><p>Harry’s hands fly to Draco’s hips as he grinds forward, and the snake on his leg crawls up and down his thigh, and from the way Draco starts shivering he can feel it. Harry drags his hands up over Draco’s torso until he reaches his chest, and he pinches and tugs at his nipples and the piercings until Draco’s squirming and howling in pleasure while Harry ruts his cock between Draco’s cheeks. </p><p>He feels powerful, wild; Draco’s fighting like a wild thing in his arms, desperate for <i>him,</i> and when Harry bends down to nibble at the taut tendons of his neck, he relishes Draco’s shouts and incoherent begging.</p><p>Finally, he drops one hand to Draco’s cock, wanking him fast and hard, speeding up his own thrusts to match.</p><p>Harry reaches the edge first, and he pulls back enough to watch himself come all over Draco’s lower back, gripping Draco’s hips tightly as he fucks forward for a few more thrusts, relishing the too-sensitive feel of wet skin on his spent cock. Draco’s gasping for breath by the time Harry brings his attention back, but it only takes a few more strokes and one particularly harsh pull on one of his piercings until he’s coming all over the shower wall with a howl.</p><p>There’s a roaring in Harry’s ears as he slowly steps back, absently rinsing himself in the stream of Draco’s showerhead. He feels incredible, but—oh, Merlin, what did he just <i>do</i>?</p><p>Draco rolls his head, then turns, stepping closer to Harry until they’re chest-to-chest and Draco can rinse himself off too. He then leans up and kisses Harry softly, sweetly, and Harry responds, winding his arms around Draco’s waist.</p><p>They kiss for what seems like ages, until the entire locker room has steamed up so thoroughly Harry can hardly see past Draco’s gaze—not that he wants to be looking at anything else, anyway.</p><p>Draco’s eyes are flickering over his face again, and he breaks out into a small smile. “Well,” he says lowly, squeezing Harry’s arse once before stepping back and grabbing for the conditioner. “I was beginning to lose hope, you know; your Granger assured me you’d get there eventually, but if you took much longer, I was going to have to take drastic action. If I had known all it would take to get you going was flashing my tits, I’d have tried that months ago.”</p><p>Harry’s jaw drops. “You— What? You and Hermione were talking about...what, exactly?” He crosses his arms defensively over his chest; not that it does much good, as naked as they both are.</p><p>“Oh, your feelings for me, of course,” Draco says serenely, ducking back under the water to rinse his hair. He snaps his fingers and both showerheads shut off, then he saunters towards the towels. “And mine for you,” he adds as an afterthought, snatching a towel and his clothes and disappearing back into the main locker room.</p><p>“Hey!” Harry shouts, finally getting his feet back in gear. He charges out of the shower area, barely stopping to grab his own towel. “Feelings? You <i>knew</i>? How, I mean, <i>I</i> didn’t even know— And you’ve been discussing this with <i>Hermione,</i> how long ago was this?? Malfoy, answer me!”</p><p>“Take me to dinner and I’ll tell you <i>whatever</i> you want to hear, Harry.”</p><p>“Oh, Merlin.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the tumblr post for this fic is <a href="https://bonesliketambourines.tumblr.com/post/633366827687346176/kinktober-day-26-in-deep">here</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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